Once Loved
by PaperFalcons
Summary: In a voice choked with grief she spoke, whispering words that she had never before dared voice into the ear of the only woman she ever loved. "Once, when the world was not so peaceful as it is right now. When fields were green and the skies were a clear blue… there lived a girl..."
1. The Letter

Wind was howling, beating against the side of a little white house somewhere in the south. Judging by the heaviness of the air a heavy rain was coming. It is still early in the morning. A blonde woman sleeps in a bed in a room upstairs; the place at her side has been cold for hours.

Another woman sits at a round wooden table, a cup of coffee in hand. She sits staring at an envelope, unopened. The front contains no stamp and no sender. The only thing that mars its pristine white surface was one word; Justine. She stares and stares and before long her coffee grows cold. Finally, after what seems like an age, she reaches with a shaking hand to grasp the letter, creasing it in her too-tight grip.

The letter was written on simple white paper. It was a page length at best of messy scrawl, as if the person writing it was too hurried to spend much time on detail. The woman knew, however, that this one page of letter would contain all the detail in the world.

She stares at the letter for time enough that the words began blur into a messy mass of squiggles and lines. She stares until staring becomes painful and she must blink. She focuses on the writing once more, taking in every loop and sharp angle. It was a writing that was all too familiar to the woman sitting alone in the kitchen, an abandoned cup of coffee her only company.

"Justine," the letter began. No salutation, no greeting; just that name again, Justine. The woman goes on reading. She does not notice the rain that has begun to fall.

Justine,

I used to tell you that you'd receive this letter when we were both old and grey. That it'd be delivered to you by hand of a child that I had befriended. You remember how I used to joke that if you and I were ever to split that I would become the "cool aunt" to my brother's kids. That I would travel the world and spoil them rotten, and that in time I would return to my previous lifestyle and would complete number three on my bucket list- sample all the women of the world.

Once I neared my fifty's I would settle down in this grand brown corner-house and would amass a decent sized collection of baseballs that would roll into my yard- the children would never retrieve them because they fear the witch that lives inside (me). One day a child, braver than all the rest, would cross over onto my lawn intent on retrieving the one ball that had broken my window. That child would in time become my friend and would learn my secrets of the world. That child was supposed to seek you out and give you this letter as I lay on my dying bed.

You would come to see me as I had requested, and with you, you would bring along this leggy blonde. You remember that I would joke and tell you that she'd be this really hot woman but that she'd be boring; nothing more than a trophy wife- great ass and a fake smile. Or was it fake tits? I never could remember. We would sit, talking for hours as your forgotten wife stood in the doorway watching us, unsure if she should be envious of how tenderly you looked at me or irate because you never once looked to her with the same care.

We talk about anything and everything, and I try to tell you that I still love you. That I forgave you and myself, but I don't. As we talk you continue to absently rub the ring finger on my left hand. I answer your unspoken question, telling you that the butterfly you gave me is now too big so I keep it close to my heart so that I don't lose it. It is then that you pull out your favorite chain and show me that you still have the ring you bought me. I smile as tears threaten to fall. We talk and talk until the sky outside is purple.

I can feel that I am about to go so I ask you to hold me just once, like you used to. You comply. At last, I am finally home, in the arms of the one woman I have ever loved. With what may very well be my last breath I ask you to tell me a story. Will you please grant a dying woman this one request? And so this once, with a heavy heart you tell me a story of a young girl and her knight in shining armor. As you whisper the story into my ear, you remove the ring with its blue diamond and put it on my finger, where it was intended to sit. You almost cry when you see how big the ring is, when it had once fit like a glove. You kiss my hand and hold my fragile body close to you as you try not to cry. "I love you," you whisper in my ear. I am gone.

That was how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be old. I was supposed to do so many things and only when I had completed everything was I to die. But I'm not grey. I'm not even certain that I'm that old. I'm only thirty-seven. Thirty-seven and dying. So I ask you, will you allow a dying woman one last request and come see me once more?

- Katie

The woman's grip on the letter is white-knuckled. She does not notice that the blonde woman stands behind her until her arms wrap around her. "Justine, what is it? Are you alright?" She does not answer. She sits silent for a long time until the woman, giving up on her heads back to bed. Justine stares, eyes fixated on three words; I love you. A tear rolls down her cheek, then a second and a third until she is sobbing. The letter falls out of her hand. In a rage she takes the cold cup of coffee and throws it at the wall, sending brown liquid and ceramic fragments flying. She wails once in anguish and crumples to the floor in grief. A brown and white dog whines going over to comfort its master.

3

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**A/N- This is a disclaimer.**

This applies to all chapters so I will only say it once; I own all rights to this story and its characters. Thank you for reading. Please review.


	2. Princess Tower

Once Loved

**CH 2- Princess Tower**

The little white house seems so very far away as Justine stands, shaking in the mists of the Chicago crowd. Buildings loom frighteningly around her, seeming almost to close in on her, blocking out the sky. She pauses in front of one building. Princess Tower. It seemed fitting that this would be where she had chosen to live. She cannot bring herself to say the woman's name aloud. It chooses instead to rebel against her refusal to speak by clanging around in her head. Katie. Katie. Katie. Katie. Over and over until that woman is all she can think of.

It used to be once, that Katie was in fact _all_ Justine could think of. The woman that had made her believe in fairy tales, though she would rather die than admit it. She remembered clearly when they first met. Their first kiss and their last kiss shared and every scorching kiss in between.

Memories of the night she sat ridged in the kitchen as Katie's father interrogated her flooded her mind. The fear that awkward, entrancing girl five years her junior felt that night very nearly broke her heart. She vowed then to save her from her hell. It was at that moment that she became her knight in shining armor, as Katie so fondly said.

She recalled with such clarity when they fled, the two of them together, swearing up and down that their love was once and only- completely true. Katie. Katherine Evans. The girl that loved her no matter what she did. That was the woman she loved. The one she pledged her heart to. Never once did she forget it. The good times and the bad were clear as crystal, the memories of love they shared never once leaving her.

There were times. Not a lot of times, but times enough, where Justine would find herself woken from slumber hearing whimpers of fear. Still disoriented she would reach over seeking to hold her love close to her intent on bringing her some small comfort. Time and again she would grasp at air and only then she would remember that her love was no longer there. She missed the feel of a warm body lying next to her at night so she took the first woman she saw when she went out to the bar that night to bed with her. That woman, Ashley, was the exact replica of the type of women Katie abhorred. Perhaps that was why she married her, better to have a negative that reminded her of her love then none at all.

If she dared to admit it to herself, which she never would, she would acknowledge that for a long time now her side of the bed was cold. She would much rather fall asleep on the couch then in the arms of another woman, never mind that she was now her wife.

Shaken from her thoughts by Ashley's grating voice asking which way to go, Justine slowly makes her way to the topmost floor. With feet growing heavier with every step and a heart that beat a frantic tattoo in her chest, she turns a left and a right, followed by another right until she stands in front of the very last door. The door opens seemingly of its own accord, as if it had pinpointed her arrival to the very second and was pleased to let her in. It took her a moment to register that a young African American girl stood at the door waiting in awkward silence for her to cross the threshold.

"The Missus is this way," the girl says speaking with a French lilt. Katie would have called her voice musical, Justine mused as the followed the girl noting her shapely rear. Oh she'd love that as well. She shook her head in amusement.

The girl stops at a door gesturing for them to wait a moment. A few inaudible words are exchanged and the girl called Etoilé stepped aside allowing them to enter.

Justine was sure that what she saw before her was not what she had expected to see. So many times had Katie complained that she was dying with a smile on her face that that image was the first thing that came to mind. This sickly creature lying on the bed, there was no way that was her Katie. The Katherine she knew was strong. This creature was so thin, its skin translucent to the point that it appeared to be blue. She blinked, trying to focus.

"It seems my letter has found you well," The woman lying on the bed speaks, her voice is weak. "You are still living in our house, then?" She does not wait for Justine's acknowledgment as she sneers in contempt, looking at the blond woman that stood behind Justine. "You brought the blow up doll with you."

"Her name is Ashley." Justine tells her, cutting off the blonde's disgruntled cry. Katie nods. "Of course it is." Justine smiles moving to sit next to the woman on the bed. "Justine," Is all she says, her eyes sad. "Katherine." She whispers, voice failing her. She takes her love's fragile hand and finally, she feels complete. Of the trio, Ashley is the only one to feel out of place.

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	3. Spin me a Tale

Once Loved

**CH 3- Spin me a Tale**

The room that her lover now lies in is at the same time, too dazzling in its brilliance and too sterile in its whiteness; a single Coral-pink "America" rose is the only drop of colour found throughout the room. Strangely, the room does not smell of overpowering sickness but smells instead of a multitude of roses.

With the scent branded, Justine is no longer sitting next to her dying lover; she is walking up a lane framed high by overhanging trees. Sunlight falls scattered through the leaves casting a sweet golden glow around her. She turns a bend and there before her stands a little white house. It is a plain little structure that would become her home in the years to come. It sits surrounded by greenery, bathed in sunlight.

She walks in through the opened front door. Making her way to the kitchen intent on grabbing a beer, she makes a mental note to remind her love to lock up when she's home alone. She stops at the sight that awaits her, entranced. A woman with a messy brown ponytail is dancing around the kitchen, an ancient cassette player that she favored blasting "Walking on Sunshine". The woman is laughing happily dancing around in her underwear, her already short shirt riding up to further expose her belly.

Socked feet slide on the tiled floor, she holds a whisk as if it was a microphone and runs her fingers through her hair, the assault messing it up further so that it now falls around her shoulders in brown and black waves. She spins around and falls to the ground giggling as a brown and white dog jumps up, knocking into her. Justine cannot help but laugh at the woman's antics, the exultant vocalization making her presence known to the girl on the floor.

Katherine. That was the woman that she was going to marry, if the ring in her coat pocket had anything to say on the matter. The girl jumps up from the floor, the sudden movement causing her to slip and slide into her lovers waiting arms. She beams up at her, leaning in for a kiss. The smell of roses wafts in from the open window, curtains swelling with the soft breeze.

The window overlooked a small garden of sorts. It wasn't a vegetable garden; Katie was far too lazy to cultivate one of those. No, it was a rose garden. Autumn Damask, the "four seasons rose" was one of her favorites along with the climbing rose "America" that covered the side of the house, a few of the coral-pink blooms coming in through the kitchen window. With a jolt, Justine is brought back into the present as Katie all but coughs up a lung, flecks of blood dotting her kerchief.

Conversation between the two lovers was halting at first, punctuated by Katherine's labored breaths, but it soon flowed with a familiar ease. Au fait banter peppered with laughter that had never really left their hearts fills the room. Ashley, unnoticed, inches further into the room, siting at the little white wire table by the window at the far end of the room.

She watches as her wife and the sick woman engage in conversation. They are so familiar with each other that if one did not know that Ashley was Justine's wife, they would assume that Katherine was. Though a small part of her was jealous of the sick woman, she knew that she had no right to be, because she never held a claim on Justine at all. It was clear by the tender care her wife showed to this woman that her heart belonged to her and her alone.

If she really wanted to be true to herself, she would admit that she was actually happy for her wife, happy that she was finally with the one she loved. And curious. She would admit that she was insanely curious as to what had driven the pair apart when clearly they were good together. And though she didn't know it, having never read the letter, what Katherine had said in it stood true; Ashley was in fact enviously irate because Justine never once looked to her with the same care that she showed Katherine. Not that she blamed her. Seeing them together now, she understood and forgave her wife for the heart that belonged to another.

Abandoning her thoughts, Ashley caught a few words softly spoken, "You know what they say, about time healing all? I found it to be a lie. Maybe it's true for some, but without you by my side, Justine, time stood still. Only now has the clock started to tick again." She didn't hear her wife's answer, but the kiss that followed was answer enough.

The pair of lovers broke apart with a jolt, looking over to where Ashley stood by the window, the little wire table clattered to the ground in her haste to get up. Like a frightened doe, Ashley turned to flee the room, pausing at a single word. "Wait," it was a powerful voice, almost as if a God had spoken. She turned with a shaking hand to see her wife helping the woman sit up in the bed.

Katie reached out for the hurting blonde, sadness marring her features. "You are hurting." The way she said it, it was not a question, but a knowing statement. She had been there before, hurt at this woman's hand. "You love her," was all she said, unsure to which female she was talking to. It was Katherine who answered, speaking for both. "Yes." She looked to Justine, "I love this woman as I love no other."

Unable to control her racing thoughts, she blurted out a string of words, covering her face in embarrassment. "If you love her, why are you not together? And why," she turned, directing this next question at her wife. "Why do you take it upon yourself to hurt me because you want to torture yourself!?" She went on, gaining confidence. "If you love her, go get her, why did you waste all these years by my side?"

It is Katherine who speaks, her head held high. A God indeed, this woman was magnificent, a proud creature. "For your hurt I apologize. I had not known that she would seek out comfort in the arms of another. Though I should have anticipated this…" She trails off. "It is unfair to you, and though I cannot right this wrong, I can at least tell you how it came to be that a love so true was torn apart."

As Ashley came to sit next to the two lovers, she decided that she did in fact like this strange woman that spoke in the most unusual fashion. Ashley could see why Justine was so captivated by this woman. She was stunning, even while sick; she commanded the attentions of everyone in the room.

"Anyone who knows me knows that I simply _adore_ a good fairy tale." She drawls in a way that one might call sexy. "I hope you will not begrudge me this indulgence, for it is the only way that I can bare to speak of these events." Ashley watched as Justine took Katie's hand in her own. She thought for a moment that she saw a tear sparkle in the corner of her eye.

She dismissed it as folly when Justin spoke. "Will you let me start?" Katie smiles weakly. "Jussy," she whispers fondly, "You never tell stories."

"No, but just this once, I think I'll grant your wish. I'll tell you the most incredible story you've ever heard- the story of a girl and her-"

Her lip quivers as she finishes her loves sentence, "-Knight in shining armor." She looks up at Justine with a small smile on her face, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Ashley's heart twists.

In a voice choked with grief she spoke, whispering words that she had never before dared voice into the ear of the only woman she ever loved. "Once, when the world was not so peaceful as it is right now. When fields were green and the skies were a clear blue… there lived a girl..."

4


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